


Kintsugi

by jellyfish_spine



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2015-2016 NHL Season, Boston Bruins, Emotional Hurt, Friendship/Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-10-31 18:44:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10905231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellyfish_spine/pseuds/jellyfish_spine
Summary: Kintsugi: the art of repairing broken pottery with powdered gold - treating breakage and repair as a part of a pieces history, rather than something to be disguised.





	Kintsugi

**Author's Note:**

  * For [waffles_007](https://archiveofourown.org/users/waffles_007/gifts).



> Though the title describes an art-form, I was inspired by the album of the same name by Death Cab for Cutie - bout four songs played on repeat to help me finish up this work: No Room in Frame, Little Wanderer, Everything’s a Ceiling, and Good Help (Is so Hard to Find). Though I was more so inspired by the song lyrics, the album title struck me as a perfect fit for Loui and Carl – neither of them need forget their past, and I truly believe that their time together helped fix the broken parts in each of them. I hope you enjoy the constant flow of angst that fuels this piece.  
> Finally, I only felt like trusting Google Translate a little bit, “släkt” is suppose to mean kindred.

**Summer**  
  
Loui figured, falling for Carl was the easy part. They way they’d press their foreheads together after a goal – eyes blazing, heartbeats racing – in those moments it always felt like they could take on the world together, side by side. The jokes Loui would mumble in Swedish while waiting for line rushes – the way Carl would laugh, the crows feet of his eyes deepening. How earnestly Carl would participate in weekly dinners, not just showing up and playing a part, but contributing to conversation - at the very least attempting to break out of the rigid shell Boston had shoved him in.  
  
Having to look Carl in the face and speak up, that was difficult. He always found himself lost in Carl's curious gaze, unceremoniously revealing anything and everything that was on his mind. Clarifying details without being asked before the puzzled lines on Carl's face could set. He worried he was too honest with Carl sometimes, tonight was one of those times. A few beers deep on a warm summer night, far enough away from the city to see the stars. Loui let a soft buzz wash over him, a gentle voice flowing though his veins encouraging him to speak up, a stronger voice describing how Carl would move on without him.  
  
_Of course he agreed to leave. Gabe is in Colorado. Gabe is everything you're not - he'll make Carl happy._  
  
Ivar jumped into his lap, pressing his forehead into Loui's resting hands, begging for tender scratches.  
  
“I love you”, the words fell flat, Ivar continued to purr, “I’ve always loved you”. Loui’s mouth contorted into a frown, _love_ , didn’t seem like enough. _Love_ felt bland and fake. After all, their friendship wasn’t anything like those in the romantic comedies Tuukka was always watching. There wasn’t a missed connection or painful loss, their story wouldn’t end with Carl kissing him with his perfectly pink lips.  
  
He scratched behind Ivar’s ears again, sinking deep into his chair, “Släkt, you’re everything to me”. Ivar pressed up into his hand, humming a little louder and Loui smiled.  
  
“Ivar might love you more than me, Loui”, Carl sat back in his own chair, setting another pair of beers between them. “He’s going to miss your visits.” Carl tried to press his gaze into Loui, begging him to look Carl in the face and know that he would miss Loui too.  
  
Loui let his head loll to the side, watched as Carl took a sip of his beer, the wetness leaving droplets on his lips. He loved seeing Carl like this, as if they were in another world apart from everything else. He’d be a fool if he didn’t notice the tension Carl carried during media scrums or the tight line of his lips when Carl felt uneasy. Now, Carl was relaxed, reclined in a lawn chair and letting the evening sun bathe him in soft light.  
  
Loui let his eyes close, trying to forget how much it stung to not be playing hockey right now, how much it hurt – deep in his chest, that Carl wouldn't be coming back to him in September.  
  
“I love you, Carl”, the words fell out of Loui, tripping over each beer they’d drank together.  
  
“Love you too, Loui”. Carl reached over, joining Loui in scratching Ivar, a hopeful smile catching.  
  
Loui frowned, his intent lost, “No, Carl, I love you – släkt”.  
  
Maybe it was the alcohol, slipping through his veins, urging him to continue – opening up the valve and letting all the words fall out, “I want you, all of you, I can’t imagine spending any more of my life without you. I’d be stupid to let you get on a plane to Denver without letting you know”. Or more certainly, it was the way Carl's fingers had brushed his own while petting Ivar. The chaste and delicate act chasing away the shadows.  
  
Loui took a long sip of beer, grateful that there was a table separating them – he'd never been scared of Carl’s reaction to anything, but now, with his heart on his sleeve, he wished Carl didn’t take his time with responses.  
  
Carl flushed, it was easy to pretend that it’s just how much they click on ice, or that being fellow countrymen has made his transition to the NHL easier – more palatable than his experience in St. Louis. He wished that Loui had something earlier, had trusted him with this secret. They could've been more than just friends. Carl let his mind wander, to all the ways they could've been more for one another. Each additional though warming him from the inside out.  
  
**Fall**  
  
Loui paced, his last interaction with Carl heavy inside of him. His last words repeating themselves over again, “Never mind, I take it back”. He and Carl hadn’t spoken since, no formal goodbye or well wishes. He had just stood up, letting Ivar hop to the floor, and walked out.  
  
So he paced, Denver looming like a summer storm, how bad would the damage be? How costly the clean up efforts?  
  
“You’re getting on my nerves”, Tuukka grabbed Loui’s arm, pulling him from his funk. “You need to think more about hockey and less about Carl”.  
  
Loui pulled his arm free and stalked off. What would Tuukka know about losing his best friend – he wasn’t friends with anyone really. Besides, it was none of his business.  
  
*  
  
The game ended, Loui contributing next to nothing, aside from being a warm body on the bench. He still hadn’t spoken to Carl, still hadn’t apologized for being an ass. Carl ignored him right back, no welcome text, or even a pregame chirp. If Carl was fine with radio silence, then that was what he would continue to get.  
  
Pasta and David were turned in towards one another, sharing some special connection, excluding him from their partnership. It all made Loui’s blood boil, how management had decided his chemistry with Carl wasn’t important enough to invest in, how Claude kept haphazardly pushing him towards other lines – lines without Carl.Worst of all Carl seemed to be getting on without him, it made Loui want to scream and kick.  
  
It wasn’t supposed to be like this, trades were supposed to be devastating to the person who left, supposed to put them in a rut and give everyone at home a chance to find space. But Loui felt more trapped than ever remembering how free Carl had looked on the ice, how relaxed and in his element. Even if he didn’t score or get an assist, there was obviously something for him in Colorado. Something Loui couldn’t give him in Boston.  
  
Loui felt as the planes landing gear tucked under itself, saw the large thunderclouds rolling into the city and he couldn’t have been more ready to get as far away from Denver as possible. As far away from Carl. Besides, there didn’t seem to be room for him in Carl’s life now anyway. 

**Winter**  
  
Loui had never appreciated coming home to Gothenburg more in his life. Boston was a unique hell for him, of course he wasn’t injured, and he was producing, but he was effectively alone – everyone else figuring out what they needed. His childhood bed, shorter than he needed, felt more comforting, with his thick IKEA comforter wrapped around him and the almost endless night promising rest.  
  
His phone rang. Loui cursed. He hadn’t told anyone he was going home for the Christmas break and few people had his European number. He answered anyway.  
  
“Loui, come get Fika with me today”. Carl. _Of course it would be Carl_.  
  
“I’m in Sweden right now”, Loui pulled the comforter over his head. He didn’t want to talk to Carl, not right now. Not when Carl was having so much success in Colorado and he was suffering in Boston.  
  
“I know, I’m going to be in Gothenburg in a couple hours”  
  
“What do you mean you know?”  
  
“You never turned off Find My Friends”. Loui didn’t respond, couldn’t think of anything to say. Carl had checked up on him, today of all days. Had he been checking up on him throughout the season? Over the summer even? “I’m in Malmö for the holidays. I’m on a train to Gothenburg now and I will be eating cakes, even if you don’t show up”.  
  
Carl hung up. Too shocked by Carl's firm invitation to think of a response; too soured by his own actions for the response to be nice.  
  
*  
  
Loui had to admit, Carl picked an amazing coffee shop – quiet and offset from the main roads, and near the river. Loui sat, tucked away near the back, away from the door. He sat in a hard chair, with a straight back near a bookshelf with tattered and torn copies, some in Swedish, most not – it was something Carl would like. His heart pounded at the thought, considering what Carl would like; thinking about Carl pouring over Yelp reviews to find a place that suited him.  
  
He raised his cup to his lips as Carl sat. Loui let the warm coffee helped fight off the wintery chill, not taking a hand off to greet Carl.. Loui tried to ignore how good Carl looked. His blond hair slightly askew from his cap, cheeks flushed a light pink from the cold, lips chapped but still begging to be kissed. Carl was certainly in his physical peak of the season, all broad shoulders and toned arms, Loui loved the way his sweater clung to him. He had to hold himself back from reaching out and touching the soft fabric. Carl loved sweaters and Loui loved seeing Carl in them.  
  
“I’m sorry, Carl”.  
  
“I know”. Carl pushed a small plate with an almond tarte towards Loui. Carl remembered his favorite. Of course he did. It made Loui feel even worse about his actions, or inaction. Though he had gotten Carl a coffee he couldn’t remember how Carl took it, he just left a pile of sugars and creams next to the cup and hoped for the best.  
  
The pair ate in silence, Carl thoughtfully eating his sticky chocolate cake, Loui pushing around his tarte – he felt too guilty to eat with the vigor he normally had for his favorite treat.  
  
“What am do you want me to say, Carl?” Loui continued to stare at his plate, he hadn’t expected them to fall back into a comfortable silence or even civil conversation. But he hadn’t expected Carl to just sit and wait for him to say something.  
  
Carl shrugged, popping another small forkful into his mouth. The blush had faded, but his eyes still bore into Loui, “Say what you feel, I’m just here for the cake”.  
  
Loui wanted to slam his fists against the table, it was just like Carl to force Loui to do all the talking. He hated seeing Carl so relaxed, back in Sweden after a stellar time in Colorado – he hated that Carl had the upper hand, pretending he had only come to Gothenburg for the cakes, pretending he had invited Loui out of courtesy and not to resolve whatever rift spread out between them.  
  
“I want you to be miserable”. Carl didn’t even blink, just took a small sip of coffee and laid his fork across his empty plate, leaned back in his chair and waited, “I hate that you’re so happy in Colorado. You’re supposed to be suffering not me, I didn’t get traded”.  
  
It felt good to get it off his chest, a little relief, like opening a soda just a little, he wanted more relief, “You’ve got Gabe and you’ve got Comeau and I have no one”.  
  
“You’ve got the Davids, and Spooner –“  
  
“Don’t joke Carl, they don’t enjoy playing with me. They don’t play like you”.  
  
Carl broke a smile, the side of his mouth hitching up higher, “No one plays like Carl”.  
  
Loui instantly felt stupid, “I just want you back”.  
  
“You never lost me, Lou”.  
  
“It’s not that simple Carl, you’re so far away all the time, how am I going to play with them?”  
  
“What did you do before me, in Dallas?”  
  
Loui wished Carl would try to understand, it wasn’t just that he didn’t have chemistry with anyone, the goals didn’t feel as good, the shifts didn’t feel as natural, and no one was there to have weekly dinners with him or try niche restaurants on away trips. No one understood him, no one even tried.  
  
“It’s not that simple,”  
  
“I know”  
  
Loui deflated – trades were always hard. He had never been forced to stay behind without someone he needed.  
  
“They would’ve traded you too if they thought you couldn’t produce without me”, Loui rolled his eyes.  
  
“It’s so not about that!”  
  
“Then what is it about Loui?”, Carl’s smile faded, replaced by a scowl, Loui wanted to reach over and smooth the lines away – kiss Carl until he never frowned again. “You come over and tell me you love me, then you take it back. You ignore me for months and then tell me I don’t understand. You don’t explain yourself, you don’t tell me what you want from me?”  
  
“What am I supposed to do? Tell you that I love you and just hope you love me back? Tell you that I feel like I’m dying every day that I don’t get to be with you, don’t get to talk to you?”  
  
Loui hadn’t realized he was crying until Carl had reached over and wiped away his tears, “You know I love you too Loui. You don’t think I’m even a little bit miserable without you?”  
  
“You’re so happy in Colorado, you’re so much happier than you ever were in Boston.”  
  
“That’s not because of you or Gabe or anyone. It’s a me thing, you know how hard being in Boston was for me.” Carl didn’t remove his hand from Loui’s face, just stroked his thumb over Loui’s cheek, wiping away the tears that just wouldn’t stop. “If I had known it would hurt you so much, I would’ve stayed.”  
  
“I’d never ask that of you”  
  
“I know”. Carl leaned over and kissed Loui, soft and chaste. Pulling away and pressing his forehead to Loui’s. “I love you Loui. You didn’t lose me in the trade, I’m just somewhere else. I can always make space for you.”  
  
Carl sat back and pushed Loui’s half eaten tart towards him, “Now eat, I know how much you love mazariner”.  
  
**Spring**  
  
Loui wished he had apologized earlier, he had missed out on so much. But he enjoyed the new normal, the pictures Carl would send him smiling in some new city, pictures of Gabe asleep, slack mouthed and snoring. The funny captions. He enjoyed counting down the minutes until Carl would call him, calculating the time difference between Boston and Denver. More than ever, he missed the joy of being reunited with his best friend.  
  
There was nothing better, in his opinion, than waiting for Carl at the baggage claim in Malmö. Seeing him walk down the stairs, embracing and letting the hum of the crowd fade away. Having Carl so far away, 1,975 miles to be exact, was less than ideal – but Loui would take it. He’d take it any day over feeling so alone.  
  
He’d have Carl every day that Carl would let him, in person, or over the phone. Anywhere could feel like home with Carl, hotel rooms in the US, and even cramped international flights. As long as Carl was there, Loui was content.

  



End file.
